


Before He Says I Do

by poor_dumb_killian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving a wedding invitation from her ex-fiance, Emma's friend talks her into taking Killian as her date to the wedding. Can Emma fight her ever-growing feelings for him, or will this finally crack her walls once and for all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Invitation From Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me from a Tumblr prompt "my ex just invited me to their wedding and i need you to be my date so it doesn't look like I've spent the last few years failing to get over them." I've been picking at this for a while, but have found myself with an abundance of time of late sitting with my grandpa in a palliative care facility with nothing but my laptop and beeping machines to keep me company. This proved as a perfect distraction. Huge thanks to Mona (O-U-A-Timer on Tumblr) for being my beta and dealing with all my horrible grammar. And Karen (Mama-Sass on Tumblr) for the absolutely perfect title for this fic. You gals are the best!
> 
> This will be a 4-part fic. It is already 98% written (I only have one section to write in the last chapter - depending on how long that section turns out to be this may update to a 5-part). It switches between Emma and Killian POVs, but they are hopefully pretty noticeable. Enjoy!

Emma had an incredibly long day.

 

She woke up late, she missed her perp for the second day in a row, and she tripped and fell while chasing said perp (ruining her favorite jacket - _naturally_ ). As she drug herself up the steps to her apartment building, all that was on her mind was a nice, long bath. And maybe some Icy-Hot for her shoulder. And _definitely_ some wine.

 

She grabbed her mail on the way through the lobby, and was flipping through it nonchalantly as she made her way up the two flights of stairs to her second story apartment.

 

 _Junk - credit card offer - bill - bill - bill - more junk_.

 

As she made it to the second story landing, she came upon a very fancy, off-white envelope with embossed, golden swirls around the corners; it was addressed to _Ms. Emma Swan_. It looked like an invitation to something, but she had no clue who it could possibly be from. No one on her very short list of friends was engaged or expecting a baby.

 

She flipped the envelope over and felt her very world tilt on its axis. Written on the emerald green flap that sealed the ornate envelope was the return address, telling her it was from “Mr. Walsh Oscar Diggs and Ms. Dorothy Ann Gale.”

 

 _Walsh_ … her asshole ex that left her a week before their wedding almost exactly two years prior. The man that promised he would love her forever, said he would never leave her the way she had been left by her parents and Neal. The man that painstakingly took down her well-guarded walls, just to crush her heart once he had it in hand.

 

_And now he’s marrying his assistant. The girl he left her for._

 

Her breath backed up in her throat, and she had to suppress the sob from escaping. With shaky hands, she somehow got the keys into her lock. Entering the foyer, she dropped everything to the floor. Everything except for the invitation. All thoughts of a bath or Icy-Hot left her mind. She went right for her wine rack, and didn't even bother with a glass.

 

Tonight was a drink-straight-from-the-bottle kind of night.

 

* * *

 

Emma had spent the last two days pretending she never received the invitation. She hadn't even opened it. She threw herself into work, managed to finally catch that perp (and she left him with some lovely sidewalk burn on his arms and cheek after her tackle. It felt like minor revenge for her beloved jacket). She also caught three others in record time. When she returned to the office to get another perp, her boss gave her one look and told her to go home and rest.

 

The problem for Emma was that rest never came. What little she had gotten was restless and haunted by dreams. But it was Friday night and her weekly meet-up with her best friends Mary Margaret and David Nolan. She hadn’t told either of them about the invitation, because speaking about it out loud made it more real.

 

She arrived at the bar first. Grabbing a whiskey on the rocks, she made her way to their usual high-top. On occasion, their weekly drinking date included more than just the three of them. Sometimes it was Mary Margaret’s friend, Ruby, and her beau Victor. Sometimes it was David’s work friends, Will and Killian. She really hoped tonight would just be them, because she was fried and not in the mood to pretend to be happy. She especially wasn’t in the mood for Killian Jones and his innuendoes and flirty eyebrows.

 

Of course she couldn’t be so lucky! As she swirled and sipped her whiskey, lost in thought, Killian slipped into the seat across from her with his usual rum in hand.

 

“Hello, beautiful,” he said with a smirk and slight raise of his left brow.

 

Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Im really not in the mood, Jones.”

 

He hummed as he took a sip and narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her and reading her like he always could. It sent a shiver down her spine.

 

She _hated_ that he could read her so well.

 

“Someone’s a bit testy this evening. Care to talk about it?”

 

“No, not in particular. Especially not with _you_ ,” she bit back, perhaps a bit harsher than she intended.

 

He threw his hands up as a sign of surrender. “Fair enough, love. Didnt mean to intrude. Just trying to be friendly, is all.”

 

He winked at her, which would normally just make her more mad. But she was just so tired that she wasn’t up for their normal banter today. So she deflated and sighed deeply, staring at her drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

 

“I’m sorry,” she told him quietly.  “It’s just -” Another sigh as she slumped further into her seat, _yes she may be a bit dramatic tonight - no, she doesn't care_. “I’ve just had a really horrible couple of days. Well, life really... And - well, I'm just too tired for our usual bickering. When Mary Margaret and David get here I’ll fill you all in. I can’t go through it twice, is all.”

 

He didn't say anything for a few moments - which was so not like him. She finally dared a glance up at his face, and what she saw absolutely terrified her. His face was filled with concern and worry and something else that looked entirely too much like love. It was her turn to read him like a book, and his book was telling her he wanted nothing more that to wrap her in his arms and sooth away the pain.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before a sound came out.

 

“I - I’ve gotta use the bathroom,” she sputtered out before quickly rising from her seat and rushing towards the back of the bar.

 

* * *

 

 _Bloody hell_ was that lass infuriating.

 

She was smart and beautiful and witty.  She had a quick tongue that he loved to invoke, just to see the spark of a challenge in those gorgeous green eyes. But she was also insecure and closed-off behind impressive walls that he’d been trying to glimpse behind for _nearly two bloody years_.

 

She usually seemed to enjoy their bickering. She would never admit it, of course, but he knew she liked to rise to the challenge; usually upping the ante. And winning more times than not (though he would never admit that to her).

 

He could tell she was off tonight just by her posture, but the way she snapped at him confirmed it. She looked so broken when she glanced at him before her panicked run to the bathroom. All he wanted to do in that moment was wrap her in his arms and make it better. But he knew that’s not what she wanted, so he refrained.

 

Now all he wanted to do was find out who made her so upset and wring their bloody necks!

 

He decided to grab a refill, and got one for Emma as well. She was going to avoid whatever she needed to talk about, and draining her drink was one of her favorite tactics.

 

He settled back in his chair just as Dave and Mary Margaret entered the bar. She waved and smiled sweetly as she made her way over to their table and Dave went to get their drinks.

 

He stood and gave her a hug.

 

“Mary Margaret, how are you this fine evening?”

 

“Wonderful, Killian. I had a great week at school. How are you?”

 

“Oh, you know. Up to my usual trouble,” he said with a wink.

 

That elicited a sweet laugh from her as she settled down in her own chair. Dave made his way over and set their drinks down.

 

“Killian! How are you?”

 

“Not much different than I was an hour ago when you last saw me, mate.”

 

Dave pointed to Emma’s glass on the table.

 

“Is Emma here?”

 

“Yes, she ran to the washroom.”

 

Dave nodded in understanding and Killian took a sip of his drink.

 

“She said she had a rough week,” he told them.  “She seemed off for the few minutes we spoke.”

 

Dave’s face got stern, as if often did when he went into protective-brother-mode.

 

“What do you mean? Is she alright? What happened?”

 

Killian couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend’s rush of questions. It was much like what he wished he could’ve done with Emma; but it would chase her even further away.

 

For every brick he successfully removed from her sky-high walls, two more always seemed to take it’s place.

 

“I don't know mate. She said she only wanted to tell the story once. I suspect we’ll get it out of her when she returns.”

 

Dave sighed and rubbed his forehead. Emma was the only sibling Dave ever had, and he loved her and worried for her just as much as Killian remembered Liam did for him. Blood didn’t matter. Emma was just as much Dave’s sister as Liam was Killian’s brother.

 

“If someone hurt her…” Dave sighed.

 

“You’ll get no argument from me, mate.”

 

Killian slapped him on his shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. That’s when he heard Mary Margaret call excitedly to Emma.

 

“Emma!”

 

She jumped up happily and ran to her, embracing her in a huge he was envious of.

 

He had never once hugged Emma Swan. The closest he has come was holding her up under her shoulders, helping her into a cab on a night he had challenged her to a drinking game ( _and won_ ).

 

He was usually not one for cuddling, didn’t need the intimacy of a hug. He lost Liam at such a young age, and Milah left nearly 10 years ago, he learned to be independent and self-reliant ages ago. But there was something about Swan that made him burn with a need to hold her and chase away all of her demons.

 

Even if he knew she didn’t need it from him. Even if she did, she would never admit it. That much was certain.

 

* * *

 

She couldn’t handle looks like that from him. When he looked at her like she was his very being - his reason for existing - it overwhelmed her. She will never be enough. She had never been enough before. And Killian could have any woman he wanted (and he’d had his fair share in the nearly two years she had known him). He would never be satisfied just having her. No, this was just an infatuation. And if she gave in and gave him what he wanted, he would have his fill and leave her behind like everyone else.

 

When she got back to the table, Mary Margaret and David had arrived. She had never been more thankful in her life, because it allowed her to completely ignore everything that just passed between her and Killian.

 

“Emma!” Mary Margaret sing-songed as she approached; a huge smile on her face. She wrapped her in a big hug.

 

“Hey M&M, it’s good to see you, too,” Emma spoke into her friend’s shoulder.

 

Mary Margaret chuckled at the long standing nickname.  She motioned her back to their table  where David was waiting with a big bear hug.

 

Emma met David when she was a sophomore in high school. David was a junior and defended her against the usual bullying she endured (being the poor, unloved, orphan girl never garnered many friends). She, of course, didn’t believe his intentions were true. She thought it was a trick to embarrass her (it wouldn’t have been the first time). But David stuck with her. And after a few months, she believed he was a true friend.

 

When she was about to get shipped to a new foster home, David’s wonderful mother, Ruth, stepped up and took Emma in. They were the only two good years of her entire childhood. She probably wouldn’t have finished high school if it hadn’t been for the Nolan’s.

 

When David met Mary Margaret his freshman year of college, Emma knew he would marry her. They were absolutely perfect. She used to joke that they were Snow White and Prince Charming; true love through and through. Emma loved her from the first moment they met, and they had been the only two constants in her life. She honestly had no clue where she would have ended up if it hadn’t been for David’s insistence they become friends all those years ago.

 

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth that seeped to her bones as she was wrapped in her brother’s strong arms. Emma prided herself in not needing anyone, in being totally independent, but sometimes the lost little orphan in her just needed to be hugged. And there was no better hug than her brother’s.

 

“Are you OK, Emma? Killian mentioned you had a hard week,” David said as he pulled away far enough to meet her eyes.

 

She felt the tears well in her eyes, but refused to let them fall. She was thankful that David blocked her view from the table, because she was not sure she could handle Killian seeing her cry. This week had been bad enough already.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” David gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her at all, making her sigh.  “OK, yeah, I had a _horrible_ week.”

 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her to the table. She sat back in front of her drink and immediately drained it. She was about to use the excuse to go get another when Killian pushed a drink in front of her. She met his eyes and he smirked.

 

“I’m actually quite perceptive, you know? I had a feeling you would use your low drink as an excuse to prolong talking about whatever it is you _obviously_ need to talk about.”

 

She rolled her eyes. _Damn him for knowing her so well_.

 

Mary Margaret took Emma’s hand in her own. “It’s OK, Emma. We’re all your friends. We just want to help.”

 

Emma nodded and took in a deep breath.  

 

“It started on Wednesday. I had an awful day chasing down my perp. I got tripped and I ruined my favorite jacket and bruised my shoulder and he got away.” She sighed again and took another sip of her drink. “When I got home I was looking forward to a bath and maybe some wine, knowing I had to start all-over with the perp come morning.” She kept her gaze locked firmly on her glass for the next part. “When I checked my mail, I found an invitation. Well, I assume it’s an invitation. I haven’t actually opened it yet.”

 

She dug through her purse and pulled out the envelope, setting it in the middle of the table, without glancing up from her glass once.

 

Watching Mary Margaret pick it up out of the corner of her eye, Emma whispered,  “Flip it over,” before taking another long drag from her drink.

 

Mary Margaret gasped in shock, and David snatched the envelope out of her hands. His voice bellowed over the whole bar.

 

“WHY DID THAT _ASSHOLE_ THINK IT WAS APPROPRIATE TO SEND YOU THIS INVITATION?”

 

This was the question that had been replaying in her head for two days… Why? WHY? _Why_? Why did he feel the need to rub her face in his marriage?

 

She heard the ripping of paper and assumed one of them ( _probably David_ ) didnt have the control she did for the last two days. It was for the best, really. She probably never would have opened it otherwise.

 

From the corner of her eye she saw the envelope fall to the table, only to be snatched up by Killian’s hand.

 

“ _Bloody hell_ , is this the guy that -”

 

He seemed to think finishing that sentence wasn’t a good idea. Either that or one of the Nolan’s silently confirmed before he needed to.

 

“Im going to murder that no-good arse,” he seethed out while slamming his fist on the table.

 

Conversation went on amongst the three, trying to figure out Walsh’s reason for sending her the invite. Emma didn’t listen at all.  Choosing instead to zone out with her drink, she wished a sinkhole would open below her and swallow her whole.

 

She was snapped out of her daydream by Mary Margaret’s gentle hand on her arm. She leaned in and spoke softly while David and Killian continued to rage about the invite.

 

“Emma, are you OK? You don't seem to be here with us.”

 

She wasn't; at least, she wished she wasn't. She smiled faintly at her dear friend.

 

“I’ll be OK M&M. I just don’t know what to do. If I ignore the invite, he wins. He’ll know I’m petty and angry at him still. If I go by myself, he wins. He’ll see that I’m broken and that I’m not over him.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, willing the tears that had reformed to go away “It just seems like, whatever my choice, he wins.”

 

She hadn't realized the men had stopped their flailing while she spoke. She lifted her eyes from her drink for the first time since the conversation started and found three sets of eyes locked on her. It was unnerving to say the least. Especially since they all had the same look: concern, pity, sorrow, love. That last one was the hardest to swallow, especially since one set of eyes belonged to Killian Jones.

 

Mary Margaret spoke up first. “Then why don’t we make a third option?”

 

Emma quirked an eyebrow at her. “I wasn’t aware there was a third option.”

 

Mary Margaret smiled warmly and rubbed Emma’s back lightly to sooth her.

 

“There is _always_ another option, Emma. You could go with a date and show him how happy you are!”

 

Emma laughed. For the first time in days she laughed. She laughed so hard tears sprung from her eyes.

 

“And who, pray-tell, is this man that makes me so happy?”

 

Mary Margaret wasn’t laughing, but a smirk appeared on her face as she turned to the other side of the table.

 

“Why, Killian, of course!”

 

It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped on Emma’s head; she stopped laughing immediately.

 

“ _NO_.”

 

“But, Emma -” Mary Margaret chided in

 

“No, Mary Margaret. I can’t. I’m not good at faking, and if Walsh figured it out -” Emma gulped down the rest of her drink. “I can’t, it won’t work.”

 

“Sure it will!” Mary Margaret chirped excitingly.

 

“I’ll have to agree with Swan on this one. I'm not sure it’s the best idea,” Killian finally piped up

 

“Nonsense!” Mary Margaret waved him off. “You two are friends! Just throw a little affection into your relationship and it will work just fine.”

 

The arguing went back and forth for a while. David was strangely quiet on the subject. In the end Mary Margaret won, and Emma found herself responding to the RSVP the next morning with “YES - plus one.”

 

What had she gotten herself into?

 

* * *

 

When she dropped her RSVP in the mail, she immediately wanted it back. She desperately tried to get at it, but those damn blue mailboxes were impenetrable.

 

The weeks ticked by and the closer they got to the wedding the more terrified she became. This was a bad, bad idea. She didn’t want to face Walsh again, ever, let alone at his wedding to the woman he cheated on her with. She didn't want to pretend to be madly in love with Killian. She was scared of the feelings it could awaken in her. Feelings she had tried to bury and pretend away for two years. Ever since he started working at the same place as David and had wormed his way into their small group of friends.

 

She wasn’t sure how she would respond to small touches and caresses. And, oh god, what if they kissed? They’d have to, really, if they want to be convincing. She just wasn’t sure if she could handle Killian’s lips on hers… he’d kissed her knuckles before and made her turn beet-red. And that was just a chaste kiss to her hand!

 

This was all a bad, bad, bad, _bad_ idea. But it was too late to go back now.


	2. Let the Panic Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian and Emma both have their own concerns over the fast approaching wedding day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldnt resist some Captain Charming (it's my brotp and Im not ashamed). This chapter is a lot shorter than the rest (only clocking in at 2900), but it was just the flow of the story. My OCD wouldve preferred a more even split in my four chapters, but this is what my muse demanded :)
> 
> If this chapter gets a good enough response (and enough begging lol) I may consider posting Chapter 3 (which is nearly 5000 words, just to further entice you) this weekend as an Easter treat, but my plan was to post it on Monday... so we'll see ;-)
> 
> Enjoy!

Killian had been trying to hold back his panic over the prospect of spending a night pretending to be madly in love with Emma Swan.

 

Not much to pretend. He admitted to himself long ago that he was in love with her. But that didn’t mean he was ready to open himself up at the time. It had only been in the last few months that he had finally realized he was ready. He wanted the cuddling and bickering and early morning kisses and arguments and make-up sex. He wanted it all, and he wanted it with Emma.

 

But he wasn't sure she would ever be ready. And spending a night with her pretending to be in love with him might break him. It would be torture, he was going to love every minute of it; until it ended.

 

He was already dreading the moment reality would hit him and the night would come to a close.

 

He sighed heavily and rubbed at his brow, raking his fingers through his hair. Dave, of course, picked that moment to pop into his office.

 

“Wow, _mate_ , you look like shit.”

 

Killian scoffed at his poor impersonation of his accent on the word ‘mate.’ Dave’s impersonation was nearly as bad as Emma’s, and that was saying something because her’s was bloody awful.

 

“Gee, thanks, _mate_. Is there a reason why you’re bothering me?”

 

“You just seem a little on-edge lately, buddy. I wanted to check on you.”

 

Dave gave him a look that said he knew it was about Emma. Mary Margaret always liked to make fun of their ability to have silent conversations like an old married couple.

 

“Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind instead of beating around the bush? Subtlety never was your strong suit.”

 

“Alright, fair enough.”

 

He plopped down in the chair opposite Killian’s desk and kicked his feet up.

 

“By all means, make yourself comfortable, Dave.”

 

“Thanks, I intended to. So, your fake date with Emma. How are you feeling about it?”

 

And there we go, the subject Killian was trying not to think about.

 

“I noticed you were eerily quiet when your wife brought up the idea at the bar.”

 

Killian raised his eyebrows, silently asking Dave to explain himself. To which Dave rolled his eyes.

 

“You aren’t married, Killian. I can’t just go contradicting my wife. Besides, I didn’t think it was a terrible idea. I mean, it could work out in your favor.”

 

It was Killian’s turn to scoff, because he couldn’t think of a single scenario in which this would turn out well for him.

 

“Please, elaborate. Because I think you’re full of it, mate.”

 

“Well, Emma has feelings for you - “

 

Killian started laughing, the absurdity of Dave’s words were too much.

 

“Right. She has a funny way of showing it.”

 

His chuckling continued, so Dave just spoke louder.

 

“She treats you like that _because_ she likes you. It scares her, so she pushes you away and keeps you at arms’ length.”

 

Killian had stopped laughing, but he knew his face was scrunched up in confusion. He could read her well, he had always prided himself in his ability to read her. But he had never gotten anything but animosity, or maybe some playfulness, when their banter was lighthearted.

 

Dave shook his head and laughed a little to himself.

 

“Boy, you two are both so stubborn and hard-headed. You are made for each other.”

 

“Dave, Emma doesn’t like me. She barely tolerates me as a friend.”

 

“Can you just trust me on this? She likes you, a lot. She is terrified of those feelings so she runs. Spending a night ‘pretending’ to be love with you is going to force her to face those feelings. If she’s ready, and you’ve proved yourself to her enough over the past two years, she’ll finally stop running.”

 

Killian pondered his words for a moment. “But if she’s not ready she will run and I will lose her forever.”

 

“That is the risk.”

 

Dave stood and leaned across the desk, slapping him on the shoulder sharply.

 

“She’s ready, Killian. And for what it’s worth, you have my approval as her brother. I know you believe in that ‘good form’ of yours.”

 

Killian smiled, feeling lighter than he had in weeks at the prospect that Emma might actually return his feelings.

 

“Thanks, mate. I needed that.”

 

“I know you did. That’s what I’m here for.”

 

With a smile, Dave was gone and Killian was left to his work and his thoughts; that had thankfully turned much more hopeful.

 

* * *

 

It was Friday night again and the wedding was the following Saturday. Emma only had one more week before she had to face the man who crushed her (most recently, at least) and she was becoming more and more aware of just how unprepared she was to see him be happy with _Dorothy_ (honestly, who has the name nowadays anyways).

 

She was running late getting to the bar, her perp of the day hadn’t made it easy on her. By the time she arrived, the whole crew was there: M&M, David, Killian, Ruby, Victor, and Will.

 

She ran up to the table and huffed out, “Hey guys, sorry Im late.”

 

She was about to go order a drink, when Killian slid one in front of her. She looked at him with a skeptical eyebrow risen.

 

“Don’t look at me like that, Swan. I know your poison of choice, and knew you would get here eventually,” he said. Then he tilted his head to the side (like a damned puppy) and licked his lower lip. “Besides, I am supposed to be making you _extremely_ happy, am I not? Figured it cant hurt to get some practice in now.”

 

He put extra emphasis on the “extremely” and threw in an eyebrow wiggle for good measure, which only made her really want to punch him.

 

It should be illegal to look that attractive.

 

She somehow managed to withhold her violent tendencies - deciding that having to explain away a bruise at the wedding next week would just further add to the lies they were going to have to pull off. She opted for her standard eye roll before sitting down and accepting the drink.

 

“Thanks,” she huffed out.

 

Conversation started back up. Ruby and Victor hadn’t been around much the last couple of months, too busy with work and a new little one at home. So they had to be filled in on the master-plan for the following week.

 

The wedding was outside of Boston, in Cape Cod. It meant that she and Killian had to get a room in the quaint little hotel the wedding would be held at. Emma gave strict instructions to the reception desk that they needed a room with two beds.

 

Of course, that didn’t stop Will from commenting.

 

“So, let me get this straight. You two are going to pretend to be madly in love and stay in the same hotel room with each other? You can barely pretend to like each other for a couple hours… here at this bar… with people you like.”

 

Emma chuckled and took another sip from her drink.

 

“That’s what I was trying to point out, Will. Where were you five weeks ago when I got the invitation?”

 

“Oh, I don't know,” Ruby piped in. “It could be fun! You could really get into it and make Walsh jealous!” She clapped excitedly. “Oh, you could totally _ruin_ his wedding. Imagine his new wife’s face when she sees how jealous you made her new husband!”

 

Everyone had a good laugh, except for Emma. She never intended to make him jealous. She just didn’t want him to win.

 

“Swan, you still with us?” Killian spoke up from her right, quietly enough that only she heard while the rest of the group chatted on about great ways to ruin the wedding.“Seem a bit lost in thought, love.”

 

She cringed at the pet name, but decided against correcting him for the time being. She’d have to adjust to being called that by him. It would be hard to explain to the wedding guests why she suddenly screamed ‘Im not your love’ to the man who was supposed to be making her happy.

 

“I just really didn’t intend to ruin his wedding or make him jealous. All I wanted to do was not look sad and pathetic to him. But, doesn’t taking a fake date automatically make me sad and pathetic?”

 

She finally chanced a look up at him, and she cursed herself for doing so. She should have learned by now to not make eye contact with him. She couldn’t handle it when she saw him look at her like he was right now; full of worry and concern, like all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and chase away the pain. And, god help her, she _wanted_ to be held. She wanted to let him soothe away the crippling darkness that consumed her everyday life.

 

The air backed into her lungs, the adoration she could feel just from his gaze. It would be so easy to let herself fall for him. He was devastatingly attractive and such a gentleman with his insistent “good form.” A part of her screamed that he would never hurt her. That he would never abandon her and break her like what had happened so many times before. But another part of her was much louder.  The part that said she wasn’t good enough. That she would never be enough. Especially for a man that looked like Killian.

 

She could tell he was holding himself back, trying not to touch her.

 

“You could never be sad and pathetic, Emma,” he finally whispered

 

He NEVER said her first name, and it threw her off. Her name was like a caress out of his mouth. It rolled off his tongue with such softness that it overwhelmed her. She could feel the tears start to well in her eyes, as a faint smile overtook her lips before she could stop it. Then, she snapped back to reality and mentally slapped herself. She made too much eye contact with the smooth bastard. That must have been the problem. The longer she looked, the more entranced she became. He was like a damned hypnotist!

 

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and stood up quickly, mumbling an excuse about needing to use the bathroom before rushing to the back of the bar.

 

She took a few moments to compose herself once she was safely behind the door of the women’s bathroom. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes tight, willing the images of Killian’s sincere eyes to leave her brain.

 

It was a losing battle.

 

She banged her head gently back against the wall she’d been leaning against and breathed out in frustration.

 

“Stop being so gullible, Emma. You know better. He is just a friend. Killian Jones is not dating material. You do not date anymore. Especially not men that look like Killian Jones.”

 

The self-pep-talk went on for a minute before she finally decided to use the bathroom and wash her hands. She splashed some cold water on her face and prepared herself for facing her friends again; deciding her best course of action was to avoid alone time with Killian.

 

She walked out of the door only to be startled half to death by the same man she was hoping to avoid.

 

“Swan, are you all right?”

 

“ _Jesus_ , Killian!” Emma screamed as she clutched at her heart. “You scared me!”

 

“I’m sorry, love. I was just worried about you is all.”

 

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I dont need you to babysit me.”

 

She was being unfair to him, she knew that. But she couldn’t stop herself. This was the best protection tactic she had found: push away the people who cared about her. That way she wouldn’t be surprised when they gave up on her. Classic Emma Swan.

 

She started to walk back up the hallway to the main bar when she felt Killian’s warm hand close around her elbow, making her stop. He stepped up close behind her, but didn't move to touch her further.

 

“I know you can take care of yourself, Emma….” Killian whispered quietly in her ear. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

 

With that he released her arm and pushed past her towards the bar. Before he turned the corner, he looked back over his shoulder.  

 

“I know you’ve had a rough go, Swan. I know you have those walls of yours for a reason. I know that because I have walls of my own. It’s only been recently that I realized something. Those walls you and I built to protect ourselves? They also keep out love and happiness. You don’t have to always be alone, love. Everyone who is here tonight cares for you. We are all here for you whenever you need us.”

 

With that he disappeared, leaving Emma standing there dumbfounded.

 

_What in the hell was that?_

  

* * *

 

It was the day of the wedding. Killian had agreed to pick her up from her apartment at eight o’clock in the morning for their drive to Cape Cod. She packed and repacked her bags four times in the last twenty-four hours. She must have folded and packed every item of clothing she owned; just to quickly unpack it and continue to agonize.

 

If deciding what to wear was this hard, how was she ever going to make it through the next twenty-four hours?

 

She was sitting in the middle of her room, surrounded by an empty suitcase and all of her clothing scattered around when Killian walked in. She could hear the panic in his voice as he made his way to her position on the ground.

 

“Emma, love. Are you OK?”

 

She hated that he was seeing her like this. She was so obviously broken and pathetic. She opened her mouth to say she was fine, but only a broken sob escaped. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her face in her hands, only hoping to hide her tears from him.

 

She felt his strong arms encircle her prone position on the ground and he lifted her into his lap on her bed. She buried her face into his chest and clutched his shirt like a lifeline. Rocking her back and forth, she felt his hand rubbing her back as he murmured words that were meant to comfort her.

 

It felt so good to be held and soothed. She hadn't let anyone do it in years. After a few moments her sobs subsided and she felt foolish. She tried to pull away, but Killian’s arms held firm.

 

“You are allowed to cry, Swan. You are allowed to be upset. You are allowed to be comforted by a friend.”

 

She sniffed but didn't say anything, so he started rubbing her back again.

 

“I'm assuming you’ve been fretting all night about what to pack. Let me help, love. Together we can figure out the perfect outfit to make him sorry he ever left you. Because he was a fool to ever let you go and he deserves to know as much.”

 

She couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face, but luckily her face was still buried in his chest (which she suddenly realized was _not_ a good idea because he smelled intoxicating). She finally pulled away far enough to wipe her eyes, though not daring to look up. She knew what she would see reflected in his too-blue irises and she couldn't handle it. Not now.

 

So she crawled off of his lap and slipped into the bathroom to splash her face with cold water. (She couldn't have puffy eyes at the wedding today.) When she returned, she found Killian in her previously abandoned spot on the floor with a wicked smirk and her skintight red mini dress in his hand.

 

“I vote this one, Swan,” he said with a wink and a lip lick that she was helpless to follow.

 

She laughed and rolled her eyes.

 

“I'm not sure that is exactly a wedding at Cape Cod attire, Jones.”

 

“It’s most certainly appropriate attire for going to an ex’s wedding, because that bloody git won't know what hit him if you walk in wearing this.”

 

“Alright, I’ll bring it,” Emma said as she sat down next to him and slapped his shoulder.

 

He did a little celebratory dance, making her laugh and roll her eyes.

 

“BUT that doesn't mean I’ll wear it. We’ll see how I feel once we see the bride and groom together.”

 

“Fair enough, Swan,” he said with a smirk.

 

With Killian’s help, she picked a nice summer dress to wear on the drive up and 3 possible dresses for the wedding itself. He got a little too giddy when she went to her underwear drawer to pack the last few things she needed.

 

“Oh, I can definitely help in this decision-making, love.”

 

“You most certainly will not. Go the the living room, Jones, I need to get changed anyway.”

 

He pouted like a puppy before ducking out of the room. But threw in one more wink for dexterity.


	3. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian get ready for the approaching wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I was hoping to post this yesterday as a little Easter present, but the day got away from me! This chapter is the longest one yet at over 4900. There is one more chapter, that I will be posting on Wednesday! Without further adieu...

With Killian out of her hair, Emma was quick to grab the last few things she needed and change. Five minutes later they were finally on the road to Cape Cod. They argued over music the whole way, Killian insisting that his indie rock bands were far superior to her “twangy, melancholy country songs” as he so eloquently put it.

 

In no time they were pulling up to the hotel. The panic that had been soothed away so expertly earlier in the morning suddenly hit her full-forced. Her breathing shallowed and her vision narrowed. She didn't know why she ever thought they could pull this off. This was just going to be a disaster.

 

Killian must've sensed her change, because as soon as he put the car in park he was immediately talking her down.

 

“It’s ok, love. We can do this. Everything is going to be just fine.”

 

He was rubbing her back again, and it immediately calmed her breathing. She didn't want to read too much into how he could so easily calm her. She finally chanced a glance in his direction.

 

“See,” he said, his smile soft and warm, “there we go. Everything will be fine. You will be bloody brilliant, I just know it.”

 

A small smile appeared on her face and she nodded at him.

 

“No going back now, right?” Emma sighed,watching his nod of acknowledgement.  “Alright, let’s do this.”

 

They got out of his SUV and made their way to the back for their bags. She went to grab hers when he smacked her hand away.

 

“Don't you even think about it, Swan. I’m your boyfriend and I will not have you carrying a bag.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Jones?”

 

“Seriously.” It was all he said as he grabbed both of their bags and made his way to the lobby.

 

She huffed out in frustration before joining him on his trek up the path.

 

She was hoping to get checked in and settled before having to face the groom, but fate wasn't on her side that morning. He was standing in the lobby, smiling and talking animatedly with some of the other guests. Walsh noticed her immediately and his smile grew wider as he called across the lobby.

 

“Emma! I’m so glad you could make it.”

 

She cringed and felt Killian tense next to her. The thought and action was immediate. She grabbed his left arm, pulling herself flush to his side. She felt him relax marginally under her touch (and she  _ refused _ to read into that. Nope. Not now, not ever).

 

“Hi, Walsh,” she greeted him as soon as he was close. The smile she could muster was fake, but it would do. “It’s good to see you. Congratulations on your marriage.”

 

The words tasted like bile on her tongue, but it seemed her act was convincing enough because Walsh’s smile never faltered.

 

“I was worried you wouldn't come. I wanted an opportunity to apologize to you, and for you to see that what Dorothy and I have was a connection I couldn't fight. I never intended to hurt you, Emma.”

 

She wanted to punch him. She wanted to feel the satisfying crack of his nose breaking beneath her fist. And she was pretty sure, from Killian’s glare, that he was having the exact same thoughts. But she was here to be the bigger person, so she changed the subject.

 

“This is my boyfriend, Killian Jones,”  she finally introduced. ”Killian,  this is Walsh, the groom.”

 

She didn't want to give Walsh the satisfaction of being referred to has her ex. Killian put down his bag, put on his best “fuck you” smirk, and extended his right hand. That hold looked tighter than truly necessary, but it didn’t outwardly affect Walsh.

 

“Charmed,” it came out in the most insincere way possible.

 

Walsh’s smile was just as fake. “Ah, so this is your plus one. I was hoping it was a boyfriend because I'm afraid we changed your room from a double to a single bed. Dorothy had some family come in from Kansas last minute and they needed two beds. I hope you dont mind.”

 

Of course she fucking minded. She wanted to yell and scream and finally land that punch she’d been day dreaming about since the moment she saw him. But that would go against the plan of showing him just how happy she was without him

 

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” she assured him with a sweet smile. (At least she hoped it was sweet)  “I just like getting a double room because they are larger and I can spread my stuff out on the extra bed.”

 

She saw Killian smirk out of the corner of her eye, obviously pleased with her quick recovery.

 

“Well, mate,” Killian spoke up, “we don’t want to keep you. It’s a busy day after all. And I’d like to get our bags sorted away for the evening.”

 

Walsh smiled and gestured towards to check-in desk.  “Of course, of course. Thanks again for coming you two I'll see you later tonight!”

 

He turned and moved on to the next group of people in the lobby,  allowing Emma to finally release a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in.

 

“Well, Swan, I’d say that was a success.”   
  


 

“If by success you mean I somehow managed to not break his nose, then I would agree.”

 

Killian’s chuckle reverberated from his chest as she unlinked arms with him and moved towards to desk to check-in. In no time they were safely behind the closed door of their room. Their room with only one bed and not even a couch.

 

_ Great _ .

 

“You know, Swan,”  Killian said as he tossed their bags on the dresser. “I'll sleep on the floor. It’s really no big deal.”

 

She smiled at him, because  _ really could he be any more sweet _ ?

 

“I’m not afraid of sleeping in the same bed as you Killian; assuming you brought PJ’s.”

 

His eyebrows shot into his hairline and she knew an innuendo was coming. His mouth was halfway open when she put her hand in the air to silence him.

 

“STOP! I dont want to know, Jones.”

 

He pouted at her and cocked his head to the side.

 

“You’re no fun, Swan.”

 

She laughed at him and shook her head, but he didn't seem deterred.

 

“So, what are we to do with the next three hours before the wedding?”

 

She sighed and slumped into the chair in the corner of the room.

 

“I don't know. I’ll need at least an hour and a half to shower and get ready.”

 

“What do you say to a walk then, love? We have an hour to burn afterall. Walking hand-and-hand through the garden is pretty romantic.” He wiggled his eyebrows for extra emphasis and she rolled her eyes again.

 

He laughed, “You know you’ll have to keep your eye rolls in check tonight if you intend to pull this off.”

 

“Yea, yea. I know. But I can still roll my eyes in the privacy of our hotel room so I plan on taking full advantage.”

 

She had turned her back to him, rummaging through her bag for the pair of sandals she wanted to wear on their walk.

 

“You know something else we might want to do in the privacy of  _ our _ hotel room?” The sudden whispered question in her ear from behind nearly had her jumping out of her skin.

 

She wanted to tell him off; come back with some big innuendo-killing comment, but her brain wasn't functioning with Killian’s scent surrounding her.

 

He must have taken her silence as an invitation to continue, although his tone had lost some of it’s smooth vibrato.

 

“Well, we’ve never kissed before, Swan. And sharing our first kiss out amongst the very people we are supposed to be tricking is, generally, a bad idea.”

 

She knew he was right. Her brain had blocked out the thought that she would have to kiss Killian for this to truly be a convincing show. She wasn't sure that the hotel room was the best place because it was  too private. And. if she were to be honest with herself, it was possible that she might lose control. But if she suggested they find a quiet corner somewhere else, he would definitely see through her lie and she would never hear the end of how irresistible she found him. It would give him fuel for months of torment and innuendos.

 

She turned to finally meet his eyes. There was a playful glint in them as he lightly touched his lips with his pointer finger, being not so subtle about his intentions.

 

Before she over-analyzed the situation, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him to her. His lips were soft, softer than she had imagined, but he wasn't moving and she was afraid she had just made a terrible mistake. She started to pull away when his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He was finally kissing her back, and it was overwhelming. The scratch of his scruff was tantalizing and an interesting contrast to the softness of his lips. He caressed her lips with his. It was unlike any kiss she had ever had before. It was chaste, but full of passion and longing.  She could tell he was holding back. Part of her was glad and part of her was frustrated from wanting more.

 

The kisses came to an end, and he leaned his forehead against hers. She didn’t open her eyes just yet, afraid that doing so might ruin the moment.

 

“That was…”

 

She was snapped out of the moment by the sound of his voice. She wasn't supposed to have feelings for Killian Jones. The kiss was a bad idea, this whole weekend was a bad idea.

 

“A one-time thing,” she finished for him quickly.

 

Killian’s eyes opened as she pulled away from him.

 

“How can it be a one-time thing? We have a whole night at a wedding to pull off!”

 

“We can do it without kissing, Jones,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the bathroom to find some shred of composure.

 

She heard his over-dramatic sigh and the thud of a body landing on the bed. “You know, Swan, it won't be nearly as convincing if there isn't some amount of  _ intimacy _ .”

 

He was right,  _ he was always right _ , but she would never say it out loud.

 

“Right,” she said loudly through the door, “so kisses on the cheek will have to work.”

 

He seemed to drop the subject, and they walked around the garden (hand-in-hand because he  _ insisted _ ) in a peaceful silence. She was enjoying today more than she thought possible. She wasn't nearly as stressed out as she had been that morning; sitting on the ground surrounded by her clothes and metaphorical-life-failures. She didn't want to read too much into Killian’s ability to set her at ease. If she started thinking about that, she’d start thinking about all of the feelings she continually pushed down and ignored. Then that nagging voice that had a way of always telling  her she wasn’t enough would resurface and it would be a downward spiral from there.

 

They ended up back in the hotel room and Emma got dibs on the first shower (not without some groaning and whining from her temporary roommate). After a nice and long shower (she did not stay in longer just to annoy him, that would be immature), she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She had her hair wrapped in a towel and her robe tied securely around her waist.

 

Killian was sitting in the chair in the corner, a book in his hand. When he looked up from his book, she had to suppress the giggle. He was slack-jawed and gawking.

 

“See something you like, Jones?” she asked him. She couldn't help but tease.

 

He gulped, marking the page in his book and setting it on the table; all without taking his eyes off of her.

 

“You have no idea, love.”

 

She laughed as she walked over to their bags, grabbing her make-up and walking back over to the sink area.

 

“You are incorrigible.”

 

He licked his lower lip and seemed to shake his head free of some thoughts before clearing his throat.

 

“Did you leave any hot water for me, Swan? Or am I to take a cold shower?”

 

Her back was turned to him as she chuckled and shook her head.

 

“A cold shower may do you some good.”

 

In a heartbeat he was up in her personal space again. She froze, not wanting to think about the fact that all she had on was a robe. The last time they were this close to each other, his lips had been on hers.

 

There was a small section of hair that had escaped her towel. He tugged on it and wrapped it around his finger. She was helpless against the shiver that passed down her spine.

 

Then he whispered, husky and rough in her ear, “Minx.”

 

As quickly as he had arrived, he was gone. The bathroom door clicked shut and she released the breath she had been holding in.

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

 

* * *

 

Killian had to shake the fog of lust as the door shut behind him.

 

The bloody woman would be the death of him. And he was such a glutton for punishment, he would be sure to enjoy every moment of her sweet torture.

 

If this was his only night with Emma in his arms, he intended to enjoy it.

 

The vision of her stepping out of this bathroom in a cloud of steam - with glistening skin and nothing but a bloody robe on - was something he would never forget.

 

He had thought he had already seen how beautiful Emma could be. He remembered the moment he found her most beautiful, because it was the moment he realized the depth of his feelings for her.

 

It was ten months prior. Mary Margaret had just found out she got the third grade teaching job at the best school in the district. She had been vying for the job for months; since the old teacher had announced her intentions at retiring.

 

It was a night for celebration, and everyone’s moods reflected it. He had never seen Emma so carefree. She was wearing a light blue sundress and the most radiant smile he had ever seen.  Her excitement for her friend was contagious. It seemed her joy seeped into those around her, because you just couldn't help but smile when Emma Swan smiled at you. She was mesmerizing.

 

When her eyes connected with his and a smile blossomed across her face, dimples flashing and joy palpable, he couldn't stop the goofy grin he returned. It was wide and ridiculous, he was sure, but it softened the longer their eyes met. The weight of his feelings suddenly hitting him. Her smile turned shy and sweet, and for just a moment he saw the woman behind the walls. The broken woman, who after being through so much, still stood tall and proud.

 

This all passed in the matter of moments, moments he had recounted again and again in his head ever since. Their eyes broke apart, and her walls shot back-up; though her joy remained.

 

That was the moment his heart was given to Emma Swan. That was the moment he found her most beautiful.

 

Until today.

 

He had never truly seen her without make-up. She always had on some amount of mascara or rouge. But a fresh-faced Emma, with a natural blush (most likely from her  _ exceedingly long _ , hot shower) and a layer of moisture kissing every inch of her exposed skin, was a sight to behold.

 

He wanted to be greedy and live in that moment forever.

 

The smirk she shot at him only turned him on. It had been an admittedly long time since he had taken a woman to bed (It had been ten months, but who’s counting), and no man would be immune to Emma smirking at him in nothing but a bloody robe on.

 

He was just glad his untucked dress shirt hid his hard state from her. There were many ways she could react and the likelihood of it being one of the enjoyable ways (involving the removal of that damned robe) was slim-to-none. No, she would’ve been angry and pushed him away, or amused and never let him hear the end of it.

 

He took his time in the shower, though didn't take  _ too _ long because he didn't want to be accused of  _ handling himself _ , so to speak.

 

He toweled off and then slipped on some fresh boxer briefs and his pjs - basketball short and a comfy, white tee - because he knew he had some waiting to do and didn't want to be nagged about wrinkling his suite.

 

He didn’t say anything to her when he walked out. She was in her own little world. Her phone was on the counter, playing some  _ horrid _ country song quietly. She was humming along happily, carefully drawing her eyeliner.

 

He laid on the bed and pretended to play a game while he waited, all the while watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was so meticulous, especially when it came time to curl her hair. Every curl had to be perfect and she got an adorable crinkle in her brow when she was concentrating on an especially difficult strand.

 

He stood up and unzipped his suite bag. He grabbed the pants off their hanger and carefully tossed them on the bed. His thumbs were hooked into the elastic of his shorts when she finally broke their comfortable silence.

 

“Are you just going to strip out in public, Jones?”

 

He made a show of looking around, eyebrows raised quizzically.

 

“Publicly? Excuse me, Swan, I wasn’t aware a hotel room was considered public. Besides, I have my knickers on. It’s not like I’m going to be flashing you... Unless you want me to flash you.”

 

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and an adorable blush spread across her cheeks and down her neck, disappearing somewhere out of his eyesight below that damned robe. She huffed and rolled her eyes. Concentrating, instead, on getting the next section of hair she needed to curl. He couldn't help the grin the spread across his face as a challenge came to mind.

 

His Swan did love to rise to a challenge.

 

“Why, Swan, is that a blush I see? And you didn’t say no to the idea of me flashing you.”

 

He was standing behind her, but not touching her. He was ever mindful of keeping his hands to himself. His only true weakness being her golden locks. The urge coursing through him to grab one of her perfect curls and twirl it around his finger to great to resist. As soon as he picked it up,  she smacked his hand away.

 

“Don’t you dare! You’ll mess it up. And,  _ no , _ I do not want you to flash me. Now go away, or we’ll be late for the wedding.”

 

He chuckled as he backed away slowly with his hands up in surrender.

 

“Alright, Swan. No need to be so testy. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

 

He was almost concerned her eyes would roll out of her head, she rolled them so hard. He used the excuse of grabbing the rest of his suit and dress shirt and laying them out nicely to give himself a little time to calm down before dropping trow. Standing that close to a scantily clad Swan, surrounded by her scent, was too much for any man. So he wasn’t ashamed of the erection he had walked away from their encounter with. No, after all that shit he just gave her about flashing, he knew she would never let it go if she saw him even a little hard after their encounter.

 

Time to calm down was what he needed, and he saw per peek (though he gave her credit - she was very stealthy) while he dropped his shorts and pulled on his pants, leaving the belt loose since he still have a shirt to tuck in.

 

She had a harder time hiding her gawking when his shirt came off. He didn’t even try to hide his smirk while he stood there in only his half-closed dress pants.

 

“See something you like, Swan?”

 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.  “You wish,” she mumbled under her breath..

 

He chuckled and was sure to take his time with the rest of his dressing. He wasn’t necessarily a vain man, but he knew how he looked in a suit. This suit in particular always had the best response from ladies. The vest and jacket were well tailored and hugged his body well.

 

He had heard once that a suit on a man was the same for a woman, as lingerie is for men. He had to agree with that, from his personal experience with the fairer sex.

 

When the last button was clasped on his vest and his shirt perfectly positioned for the right amount of exposure, he laid back and pretended to be on his phone again to watch the last moments of Emma getting ready. She was down to the last section of curl.

 

The satisfied smile that spread across her face as she coiffed her curls and took in the final product of all her hard work was brilliant.

 

It was a smile he was determined to see again.

 

 

* * *

 

Emma put her curling iron down and took a look at the finished product in the mirror. Her hair was perfectly curled (thank goodness for a good hair day), her make-up was subtle with the right amount of sexy for an afternoon wedding and evening reception.

 

Now she just had to pick a dress.

 

She wasn't sure which dress to wear, though she knew the red dress was out of the running. That left her with a navy dress that was cocktail length with a high neckline and a super low back, or a pink dress with a deep-V neckline that was knee-length. She contemplated her choices while she packed up her arsenal of beauty products.

 

When she turned around, it was to find Killian standing over her suitcase in his grey, three-piece suit (his jacket not on, carefully laid out on the bed, and without a tie - because then he couldn't unbutton an obscene amount of buttons), with the red dress in his hand and a sinful smile on his face.

 

“I still vote this one,” he said with a lip lick.

 

She rolled her eyes, “Killian, that is not mid-afternoon-wedding-in-the-country attire.”

 

“Perhaps not, but it is look-at-what-you-are-missing-you-bloody-git attire. Besides, I’ve never seen you wear this dress, love. And I simply  _ must _ see it on you before I die.”

 

“Are you on your deathbed now, Jones?”

 

He stalked closer to her, with ill-intent written all over his face.

 

“Oh, are we back to Jones now? Just a moment ago I was Killian.” He grabbed one of her curls and twirled it around his finger.

 

She snatched the dress out of his hand because she almost did something stupid like place her hand on his chest and relish in his touch.

 

“Fine,” she snapped. “I will try it on so you can see it, but I  _ am not _ wearing it to the wedding.”

 

An absolutely goofy grin split across his face, like he was a little boy who had just been told he could get the puppy he had been begging for.

 

She went into the bathroom and tugged the skintight dress on. It had been a while since she had worn it. She had only bought it to trap one of her perps… like most of her dresses and heels. Men were predictably easy most times. She knew that this dress was only going to further torture Killian. A smirk flickered across her face as she thought of the best ways to torment him.

 

She cracked the door open and peaked out, finding him leaning against the dresser, lost in thought and not yet noticing her. He was adorable with a happy little grin on his face. She was looking forward to wrecking him.

 

“Close your eyes, Jones.”

 

His eyes flickered up to hers through the crack of the door, and his grin turned wicked as he did as he was told.

 

“Keep them closed because I’ll know if you peek,” she said as she walked towards her suitcase.  She grabbed the black heels she’d brought to match the dress. They were painfully high, but they made her already long legs appear even longer in this super short dress.

 

She positioned herself in front of him and checked to make sure everything was straight.

 

“Alright, open them,” she finally told him.

 

His blue eyes shot open and she heard his immediately intake of breath. A quiet, “bloody hell” escaped his mouth as he stood to fully standing in front of her. He walked around her, admiring her from all angles.

 

“ Bloody buggering hell, Swan . It should be illegal to look like that. Dont you know what that does to a man?”

 

She smiled. “Actually, yes. I bought this dress to catch a perp, and it worked like a charm. You men are so easy.”

 

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and hit him in the face with it before moving to her luggage, (throwing a little extra swing to her hips) “Now that you can die a happy man, which dress should I wear? The pink one or the navy one?”

 

He didn't speak, so she turned to face him. He was just standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face. She smirked, because this was too easy. She didn't even have to try.

 

“Hello? Earth to Killian. Are you listening? Which dress, the pink or the navy?”

 

He shook his head, obviously trying to clear the fog of lust that had taken over, and finally managed a smirk.

 

“Are you sure you can't wear that, love? I can't think of a better dress to make him regret his decision.”

 

“The point of today wasn’t to make him regret his decision. It was to show him how happy I am. Showing up at his wedding looking like a hussy will just make me look desperate.”

 

He rubbed his chin and laughed. “You do not look like a hussy, Swan.”

 

“Yes, I do. That’s why this dress works so great for catching perps. Now, pink or navy?”

 

She held up both dresses and gave him an expectant look.

 

“Hmmm, to really make the proper decision I'm afraid I'm going to have to see you in both of them, Swan.”

 

“What is this? Your own personal fashion show? Just pick a dress, Jones. You’re the one who is going to have to look at me all night!”

 

All mirth and laughter left his face as he closed the few steps between them. He cupped her cheek in his hand and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb.

 

“I don't  _ have _ to look at you, Swan. I get the pleasure of your company tonight. And, frankly, you could wear a potato sack and look absolutely stunning.”

 

She wanted to curse herself for how breathy she sounded when she replied.

 

“Well, since I don't have a potato sack, pink or navy?”

 

He took the dress out of her right hand and held it up.

 

“Navy.”

 

She smiled and nodded, kicking off her black heels and grabbing the silver ones from her suitcase. He made a sound of protest at the loss of heels and she laughed at him as she grabbed the navy dress from his hand and walked to the bathroom.

 

“Men, so predictable,” she mumbled to herself as she closed the door.

 

“I'll have you know I am not predictable, Swan!” Killian bellowed through the door.

 

“Right, that’s why you were knocked semi-unconscious by a mini-dress,” she shot back.

 

She heard him scoff, but he didn't say anything else and she finished getting undressed and redressed in silence. She slipped the silver heels on and opened the door.

 

Killian was standing by the bed, putting his suit jacket on. Emma couldn’t deny he looked good, the man could certainly wear a suit.

 

His eyes immediately snapped up to her when she stepped out.

 

“Alright, Swan. I agree. This is much better than the red dress.”

 

She felt a blush climb her cheeks. “You think?”

 

He grabbed her hand and spun her around once, a low-whistle escaping his lips.

 

“Much more appropriate for the setting. And I very much approve of the view of your lovely back.”

 

She smacked his chest as she walked away to find her purse she brought for this dress.

 

“Always so violent, love,” he whispered in her ear, making her jump.

 

“Killian,  _ shit _ ! Will you stop scaring me?”

 

“Not if scaring you gets you to call me Killian,” he said with a wink.

 

“Just shut up and let’s go,  _ Jones _ . We’re going to be late for the ceremony.”

 

She grabbed his jacket lapel and dragged him out of the room, trying not to think of all the things that could go wrong in the night ahead.

  
  



	4. I Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears!! Here we are, at the conclusion of my little fic! HUGE thanks to Mona (O-U-A-Timer) for being an awesome beta. Be sure to check out the notes at the end!

The ceremony was lovely and the bride was even lovelier; much to Emma’s chagrin.

 

Everyone was ushered to a cocktail hour while the happy couple took photo after photo. Emma found herself relaxing for the first time since they left their room. Probably because there was no risk of her running into the bride and groom while they were otherwise occupied.

 

Killian arrived with her drink, whiskey on the rocks, and she sighed in relief. Booze, that is exactly what she needed right now.

 

“Thanks, Killian.”

 

He smiled sweetly at her. “Of course, love. Oh, food!”

 

He ran after a server and nearly accosted him for whatever tiny h’oeuvres he was carrying. He came back to Emma with a napkin overflowing and a full mouth.

 

“Want some, Swan?” he asked while crumbs fell everywhere.

 

“What are you, five? Do I really have to tell you not to talk with your mouth full?” She laughed at his adolescence. And when he stuck his tongue out at her, she shook her head  “Child.”

 

“Fuddy-duddy,” he shot back.

 

Killian continued to harass the poor servers for their bite-sized goodies, and she realized he was probably upping his silly antics trying to make her laugh. It worked like a charm and she both loved and hated him for it. Hated it because he was so good at reading her, and so good at soothing and distracting her. No one had ever been so in-tuned with her needs and she _hated_ it because it made fighting her feelings for him that much harder.

 

She wouldn't touch on why she loved him for it, because that would be getting dangerously close to confronting those pesky feelings of hers.

 

The cocktail hour finally came to an end and they were moved into the reception hall. It was richly decorated with emerald and gold. Not her preferred color-scheme, but it worked well for the couple and it was executed tastefully.

 

It was apparent almost immediately that Emma and Killian were sat at the singles table. Clearly Walsh had assumed her plus-one would be a friend, and it rubbed her wrong. Killian picked up on her mood change immediately.

 

“Are you alright, love?”

 

She smiled at him and nodded. “Yea.” She whispered it so only he could hear. “But that jackass put us at the singles table. Assuming I wouldn't be over him. It just, it’s rubbing me wrong I think.”

 

He rubbed her back to sooth her again, but they had both forgotten about the backless dress she was wearing. A shiver shot up her spine at the skin-to-skin contact. He sucked in a breath and stopped his hand, but didn't pull it away. Instead, he leaned in.  
  


“Sorry, love. I forgot about the backless thing.”

 

“Killian, we are supposed to be dating, remember? It’s ok.” She smiled, even though her whole body was screaming that this was a bad idea. She wanted him. His callus hand caressing her back would just make that desire harder to fight.

 

He smiled and nodded before moving his hand to the back of her chair and casually leaned back to listen to the DJ announce the wedding party.

 

Dinner was brought out immediately after the introduction of the bride and groom. Servers came around and placed the plates on the table.

 

“I'm too full to eat anymore,” Killian groaned, watching the food as it fell delicately in front of him.

 

Emma laughed. “Maybe that’s because _somebody_ was chasing around all the poor servers for their h’oeuvres.”

 

“Oi, a few of those little bite-sized treats were actually quite delicious, thank you very much!”

 

She laughed again before digging into her dinner. It was awful, like most wedding food. She made a mental note to raid the candy machine next to the ice machine upstairs later.

 

After picking through the edible bits of her meal, she pushed it aside.

 

“You should've joined me in my hassling of the servers, love,” Killian whispered, leaning into her space at the same time. “Because those little bite-sized treats were far superior to this.”

 

Emma chuckled and lightly hit his shoulder as they sat back and listened to the speeches. She tried to keep her scoffs and eyerolls to a minimum; but it proved quite difficult. If she had to hear what an amazing guy Walsh was one more time, she might just snap and punch something.

 

The bride and groom shared their first dance, which opened the dance floor to everyone. Killian immediately stood and offered his hand.

 

“Dance with me, Emma?”

 

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to snap that she didn't dance, that she just wanted to be left alone. All the speeches had left her in a foul mood, but it wasn't fair to Killian if she took that mood out on him. She was supposed to be completely enamored with him. She couldn't have the other guests at the table see her treat him so poorly.

 

He was still looking at her expectantly and she sighed and placed her hand in his. He pulled her up as a brilliant smile spread across his face.

 

“I'm not good at dancing, Killian,” she said quietly on their way to the dancefloor.

 

“There’s only one rule when it comes to dancing, love.”

 

“Oh, really? And what’s that?”

 

He leveled her with a serious look as he positioned her hands and placed his right hand on her waist. He tugged her close and whispered the answer into her ear.

 

“Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

 

He started to gracefully spin her around the dancefloor. She giggled as he twirled her around and caught her in perfect step.

 

“Where did you learn to dance like this?”

 

He turned beet-red and broke eye-contact with her. She was pretty sure if his right hand wasn't currently occupied on her waist he would've already scratched nervously behind his ear.

 

“When I was a lad, my mum insisted my brother and I take lessons. Said that a gentleman always knew how to dance.”

 

“I didn’t know you had a brother. How come you've never mentioned him before?”

 

His face scrunched up in pain, and she wanted to sooth away the worry line between his eyebrows.

 

His response was quiet and shaky.  “He died when I was eighteen. Car accident. I - I don't like to talk about him much. Too painful. You understand, Swan.”

 

She recognized his desire to change the subject and nodded her understanding. They continued their dance in peaceful silence.

 

The song ended and they moved off the dance floor. They were on their way back to the table, Killian’s arm draped casually around her. He had just placed a sweet kiss to her temple when she heard Walsh’s voice ring across the dancefloor.

 

“Emma!”

 

She cringed and felt Killian tense at her side, his hand on her side pulled her closer in a protective way. She plastered a fake smile on her face as they turned to him.

 

“Hi Walsh. Congrats again. You and Dorothy look very happy together.”

 

Saying those words physically pained her, because she wanted to punch Walsh, _and Dorothy_ , for what they did to her.

 

“I’m so glad to hear you say that, Emma. The way things were left between us, it’s been a black cloud over my happiness and I just wanted to be sure you were OK. That we were OK.”

 

She wanted to laugh, she wanted to scream, she wanted to start punching and kicking. But she was an adult, and for once in her life she was going to act like it.

 

“Of course,” she assured him with the still sweet smile. “No need to have a second thought about me. I have Killian now. If you and I hadn’t ended, we wouldn't have met.”

 

She glanced up at Killian with a genuine smile on her face (she would not read into that smile… _nope_ ), and was woefully unprepared for the adoration she saw in his eyes.

 

“Yes, mate.”He smiled sweetly and kissed her temple just then. “Seems I should thank you for being a daft-fool and letting go of the best woman I've ever met.”

 

Walsh chuckled uncomfortably, and Emma’s smile widened. She liked him uncomfortable. She leaned her head an Killian’s shoulder as Walsh shuffled his feet around.

 

“Well, Emma. I was hoping you would honor me with a dance. It appears your dancing has improved since we dated.”

 

She laughed. “Oh, not at all! Everything out on the dance floor was Killian and his impressive skills in making me look like I can dance. It’s really quite an accomplishment!”

 

“Nevertheless, how about a dance for old-times sake?”

 

She didn't want to, but she didn't want to seem petty either. The whole reason she was at this damned wedding was so she wouldn't seem petty. It didn't make sense to start now, so she smiled and nodded.

 

“Sure, Walsh. I apologize in advance for your scuffed shoes.”

 

Killian was tense beside her. She knew he didn't want to let her go. But she gave him a reassuring smile as she took Walsh’s hand. The smile was not returned. That worry line firmly back in place between his brows.

 

 

* * *

 

Killian tried to mask his face in indifference as Walsh led Emma away from him, but he knew he was failing miserably by the worried look she shot him after trying to reassure him with her smile.

 

Like a bucket of ice water over the head, suddenly he remembered that this evening of casually holding and caressing her would be coming to a close. Dessert would be served and he and Emma would be able to slip away to the room and allow things to go back to normal between them.

 

The problem was, he didn't want to go back. He wanted this to be their new normal. He wanted to live in this little bubble forever.

 

He made his way back to their table, but decided on a detour to the bar instead. He hoped that maybe a stiff drink would help his mood loosen, or at least take the edge off his current reality.

 

With the newly opened dancefloor, most of the guests were dancing and not worrying about a drink. Which worked out perfectly for him because the bar was empty. He asked for a rum straight up, and the young man behind the bar nodded with a smile on his face.

 

Killian glanced back towards the dancing and spotted Emma in that bloody idiot’s arms. She was smiling softly at him, and it only proved to worsen his mood.

 

He heard the tell-tale sign of a tumbler hitting the bar.

 

“Here you go, man.”

 

Killian turned back to the bar, picked up the tumbler, and downed it all in one gulp.

 

The bartender chuckled.  “Wow, want another one?”

 

“Aye.”

 

He poured three fingers’ worth into the glass for him this time, and Killian was grateful.

 

“Thanks, mate.”

 

“No problem.” The young man seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I hope you don't mind me saying this, man, but your girl is gorgeous. Why are you over here moping?”

 

He glanced back over his shoulder to Emma. His eyes landed on her immediately. She was radiant, and a little smirk had settled itself on her lips. She seemed to be enjoying herself, which just turned his mood even more foul.

 

He swept his eyes around the room, and noticed half the wedding guests also had their eyes on the pair dancing. He wasn't sure if it was because they knew who Emma was and the history there was between her and Walsh, or if it was because she was so breathtaking they couldn't help but stare.

 

“Aye, that she is,” was all he responded back to the lad.

 

“Why did you let her dance with monkey-boy?”

 

Killian was mid-sip when the question was asked, making him choke on the rum as a laugh bubbled up his throat.

 

“Monkey-boy? Did you just call Walsh monkey-boy?’

 

He was still laughing, but the young man started to look nervous. Like maybe he had read the situation wrong and just got himself fired for being rude about the groom.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me, mate. That was the funniest thing I’ve heard all night. Please tell me there is a story behind the nickname? I simply must know!”

 

The man’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he released a shaky breath.

 

“Man, for a second there I thought I was going to be in trouble.”

 

“No, not at all. But you will be if you don’t tell me the story.”

 

The man chuckled. “One of the cooks was making trips back and forth to the food-truck, unloading all the supplies this morning. On one trip through the lobby she witness the groom having a freakout moment at the reception desk. Apparently his pants had ripped, and the cook got an eyefull of the boxers the man was wearing.”

 

Killian's shoulders started to shake as he tried to suppress his laughter, knowing this was going to be good.

 

“Well, it turns out the man has an affinity for The Wizard of Oz, because he was wearing flying monkey boxers.”

 

Killian took another sip as he chuckled darkly, “What kind of a self-respecting man wears monkey boxers?”

 

The bartender shook his head as he polished a glass. “On his wedding day, no less?”

 

More people walked up to the bar and Killian was once again left with his thoughts.

 

It had been over ten years since Milah crushed him. Ten years since he was a naive, young 20-year-old that thought himself invincible. He was a bloody fool for falling in love with a married woman. When she inevitably stayed with her rich husband, she made sure to take his heart with her.

 

He had protected the remaining shards behind his walls for years, and then two years ago he moved to Boston for a fresh start and met Dave. He and Dave didn't get along for the first few weeks. Dave thought Killian to be arrogant and only out for himself.

 

He couldn't blame the man for his initial thoughts on him. The facade Killian had so expertly built over the years _was_ arrogant. It was his best protection. People don't let you get close to them if they think you’re an arse.

 

If people don't let you get close, you can’t become attached. If you can’t become attached, no one gets hurt.

 

It only took Dave a few weeks to see through his facade. Later, Killian would come to realize he was so good at recognizing a fake when he saw one because he had grown up with Emma and her expertly-built walls.

 

Dave had insisted one Friday afternoon that Killian had to accompany him to the bar after work to meet his wife and sister.

 

The moment he saw Emma, he felt the shards of his heart warm in his chest. She was achingly beautiful; all long legs and golden curls with shining, green eyes.

 

He lied to himself immediately, convinced it was nothing more than a physical attraction. Of course, that didn't stop him from pulling some moves on her, which she quickly shot down. The fire in her eyes was addicting, and he quickly found joy in making her scoff.

 

Their little vocal sparring matches worked as a foreplay for him. Most weeks he would find a willing lass and relieve his tension at the end of the night. The romps were never wholly satisfying, he always felt empty afterwards.

 

It took him over a year to finally figure out why that was.

 

_Those women were not Emma._

 

And now here he stood, after a day of intimacy he never dreamed he would actually experience, pondering the very real prospect of it all coming to an end in less than an hour.

 

_Bloody Dave_. The Bastard had gotten his hopes up. Killian had known better than to hope.

 

He chanced a glance over his shoulder again. He sighed into his drink as he watched Walsh spin Emma out of his grasp and totally bugger it up.

 

_Bloody fool_ , he thought bitterly, _he_ _can’t even properly spin her around, let alone take care of her heart when she handed it over_.

 

He turned back to his drink as he heard the song come to an end. He knew it was only a matter of time before she found him, and he hadn’t managed to improve his mood.

 

 

* * *

 

She and Walsh danced around, only stepping on his feet a hand-full of times. She tried to look for Killian while she was spun around the floor, but he was nowhere she could find.

 

She and Walsh exchanged small talk. He mostly asked about Killian, which amused her. She actually found it easy to smirk and smile with him.

 

He was clearly jealous.

 

There was no denying Killian was a more attractive man than Walsh. Killian was sex-on-legs, Walsh was the guy-next-door; there was no comparison between the two.

 

The dance ended and Walsh kissed her hand. She wanted to recoil from his touch, but she kept telling herself to be an adult. She somehow managed to keep it together and leave the dance floor with dignity.

 

By the time she made her way over to her table to find Killian, she was feeling better about Walsh and her past. In fact, she started to feel silly for ever being so broken-hearted by a man like him.

 

_Dorothy can have him_ , she thought to herself, _I have a hot Englishman to twirl me around the dancefloor ._

 

The only problem was, she didn't know where that Englishman was.  Because... he wasn't at their table. She surveyed the room and saw him over by the bar nursing an amber liquid, that she knew would be rum, and chatting up the bartender.

 

She made her way over to him with a skip in her step, feeling lighter than she had for years.

 

“Hey, sailor,” she said playfully while twirling a curl around her finger.

 

He glanced over at her and downed the rest of his drink. Motioning for the bartender to pour him another.

 

“Hello, Swan. Would you like a drink?”

 

She didn't understand the change in his tone.

 

“Yes please.”

 

He ordered her a whiskey and silently pushed it in her direction.

 

“Hey, Killian. Is something wrong?”

 

“Why would something be wrong, Swan?”

 

“I don't know. You’re just acting strange. Did I do something wrong?”

 

Her insecurities were creeping back up on her.  That little voice was telling her that she’d never be enough, and was growing louder with every second that passed.

 

“Of course not, Swan. The night will be coming to an end soon, and I just want to bring myself back to reality.”

 

“Reality? What do you mean?”

 

He chuckled darkly. “Nothing, Swan. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

 

She grabbed his arm and drug him to a quiet corner.

 

“Why am I all of the sudden Swan again? No more Emma or loves?”

 

“What, are you telling me you like when I call you names, darling?”

 

He licked his lip and made a show of wiggling his eyebrows.

 

Captain Innuendo was returning, and she knew this was him drawing his walls back up. She knew because she recognized the defense mechanisms; having used them so many times herself.

 

“Killian cut the crap.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just leave you to go dance with whomever you would like then.”

 

“That’s what this is about? Me dancing with _Walsh_? You do know I didn't want to dance with him? I only did it to not seem petty and childish. You know, the whole reason for this ridiculous situation we find ourselves in?”

 

“Well, I don't mean to make a further spectacle, Swan. So if you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

 

Killian turned and stalked out of the reception hall as Emma stood flabbergasted.

 

_What in the hell just happened?_

 

She decided to find out for herself as she followed Killian out into the night.

 

“Killian!” she called as she ran after him. But he didn't stop. “Jones, _please_! Just talk to me!”

 

He whirled around so fast she nearly tripped back in surprise. He caught her arm and steadied her .

 

“And what _exactly_ do you want to talk about, Emma?” he asked her, seething. “ Do you want to talk about how this whole bloody day has just been a big tease. I taste of a happiness I'll never be allowed to have?”

 

Emma’s mind was reeling. Surely he didn’t think that a life with her would be happiness. He must be talking about the wedding and Walsh’s happiness.

 

“I - I don't understand. Are you talking about Walsh’s happiness?”

 

A bitter laugh reverberated through his chest, “No, Swan. This has nothing to do with Walsh. Just ignore me. I promise, I’ll be back to my normal self in no time.”

 

She grabbed his arm, refusing to let him leave.

 

“I'm sorry Killian. I never meant for you to get hurt!”

 

“What exactly did you expect to happen, Swan? You knew I had feelings for you when you agreed for me to come pose as your bloody boyfriend. You’ve done nothing but run from me for years until now! What were you expecting?”

 

The longer he spoke the louder his voice grew. His frustration evident all over his beautiful face.

 

Emma deflated. He was right, _he was always fucking right_ . She did know he had feelings for her. She would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not know that. But it _terrified_ her, because there was always that little voice that told her she would never be enough. He would just leave her eventually; they always did. She denied her feelings for him for so long, but deep down they were there.

 

She had been running from her own feelings for as long as she’d been running from the man himself.

 

She sighed, “I - well, I guess I just didn't want Walsh to think I've spent the last two years broken because of him.” A silent tear slipped down her cheek, and she continued so quietly she wasn't even sure he could hear her. “I wanted him to think I was happy, and never even thought twice about him or how he left me. But I didn't think about the repercussions, Killian, and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

 

Killian closed the small space that had been separating them with a single step and wiped her tear gently with the pad of his thumb.

 

“But isn't that exactly the problem, Emma? You are fierce and brilliant and strong-willed. You’ve never once missed a step in our little sparring matches. It’s one of my favorite things about you, actually. You don't take my shit.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully and managed to elicit a small laugh from her before continuing, “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met, and Walsh is the biggest asshole in the entire _bloody_ universe for ever letting you go. Because if I had the chance to be with you, I promise you I would endeavor to make you the happiest woman in the world.”

 

Emma felt the tears well up as she searched his face for a lie. There was only honesty staring back at her. A traitorous tear slipped down her cheek and Killian was quick to catch it with another swipe of his thumb. He cupped her cheek with his palm.

 

“Emma, don't apologize to me. I have no right to be upset with you. I agreed to do this as your friend, and it’s my feelings that are getting in the way. Just promise me something, love? I don't care if you do me the honor of taking you on a real date, or if you don't want anything to do with me and go on a date with another man. I just want you to move on. I want you to find your happiness, because you are far too beautiful - inside and out - to keep it all to yourself.”

 

She put her hand over his heart, trying to steady herself as she let the weight of his words sink in. Suddenly, all of her running seemed rather silly. Here was this beautiful man who looked at her like she was his sun, his very reason for existence. Killian would never leave her. She had spent nearly two years pushing him away. She was snarky and mean; rarely being kind or overly friendly. But he took it all in stride, and was always there for her when she needed him. Agreeing to come to this wedding with her was just another example of his devotion. He liked her, and she drug him along knowing they were going to have to act loving; with looks and touches and _kisses_. But even with the knowledge that it would basically be torture for him, he still supported the haywire plan and came along to support her in any way he could.

 

She realized it had been at least a minute since anything was spoken between them. But Killian just stood there, reading her like he always did. He knew she was lost in her head, and he had a hopeful look that maybe - just _maybe_ \- this time she would admit to her feelings instead of hiding behind her walls.

 

She was tired of running. She was through with hiding.

 

She surged forward the last few inches and pressed her lips desperately against his. He was momentarily surprised, but quickly reciprocated the kiss. He moved his hand from her cheek and fisted his fingers in her hair while his other hand grasped her hip possessively and pulled her body flush against his.

 

The kiss was desperate, full of a passion Emma had never felt before. Her hands both moved to the back of his head. She carded her fingers through the soft hair at the nap of his neck and sighed as Killian kissed up her jaw and under her ear.

 

He whispered into her neck, as if he was afraid if he said it too loud or made eye contact he would snap them out of this lovely moment they found themselves in.

 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that, Emma.” He placed another gentle kiss to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “And _bloody hell_ you didn't disappoint, love.”

 

She couldn't help the chuckle that passed her lips.

 

“Not so bad yourself, Jones.”

 

It was meant to be playful, but came out more breathless than she would’ve liked.

 

He finally pulled back and met her eyes. His were blown wide with lust, and his joy was evident all over his face.

 

“What do you say we get back to the party?” he asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

 

Emma whined like a petulant teenager before burying her face in his chest.

 

“Do we have to?”

 

It was Killian’s turn to chuckle as he nudged her face upwards with his finger, forcing her to look at him.

 

“Well, we need anyone who witnessed our exchange to know we made up from our fight.” He placed a sweet kiss on her nose. “Wasn’t that the whole point of this weekend? To show you’ve moved on and are _immensely_ happy with me?”

 

Emma smiled at him. His damn eyebrows did another little dance, and she sighed in defeat.

 

“Alright, you win. _One_ dance, a little dessert, then we are out of there and back to the room.”

 

“My, my Swan. You seem a little impatient to get me alone.” His smirk was firmly in place as his eyebrows rose in perfect sync.

 

She couldn't help the smile that crept over her face. She loved that he didn't intend to end their little games. She certainly wasn't going to back down.

 

She slowly dropped her hand from the nap of his neck, dragging it down his collarbone. She carded her fingers through his chest hair, before clasping the opening of his shirt and biting her lip seductively. She went up on her tippy-toes and nudged his nose with hers, but kept her mouth just out of his reach.

 

“I mean,” she whispered softly, “unless you would rather take you time. There’s really no rush, if - “

 

She had started to pull away as if to walk back in but didn't get to finish, because Killian cut her off with a growl and his lips. This kiss was more chaste, but somehow just as passionate. And it ended far too soon for her liking. She left her eyes close as they rested their foreheads together, their breaths mingling together.

 

“Bloody minx,” he whispered against her.

 

She laughed and grabbed his hand, dragging him back towards the reception.

 

“Come on, Jones. Come show off your dancing skills. Walsh was clearly jealous of them.”

 

That elicited a smile.

 

“Really now? And why do you say that?”

 

“Because we spent our entire dance talking about _you_ ,” she said with a wink.

 

His laugh was infectious, as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. It made walking more difficult, but she’d never be heard complaining about it.

 

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

 

She leaned her head back and kissed his cheek.

 

“Oh, I have an idea it’s about as happy as it made me. The dance only made me realize how silly I was for ever pining over him when I had you in front of me all this time.”

 

“Well, then it appears I owe monkey-boy a thank you.”

 

“Monkey-boy?” she questioned with a laugh. “Where did that come from?”

 

“I came upon that nickname while you were dancing with him. Seems the wedding staff has a similarly low opinion of your ex.”

 

“Hmmmm, come to think of it, he did always love the Wizard of Oz, especially the flying monkeys. It fits. I think that’s what we should call him from now on.”

 

“Excellent suggestion, love,” he said with a sweet smile and kiss to her temple. “Just wait until you hear the story.”

 

 

* * *

 

They made it through half a song, and shared a single piece of cake (though they snuck a second piece to their room for later).

 

They didn't even make it five minutes in the reception hall before they were making their way to their room.

 

(The poor teenager who was working the elevator may have seen more than strictly appropriate.

 

Emma couldn't find it in her to care.)

 

 

* * *

 

Two years later, Emma and Killian got married at the courthouse. David and Mary Margaret were the only guests. Emma wore a simple, white sundress and Killian in slacks and a blue button-up (with far too many buttons undone, naturally).

 

They spent their wedding night with an ice cream cake and champagne sitting in the master bedroom of their new home.

 

Emma Swan never believed in happy endings; she never thought she would ever be enough to deserve one.

 

Emma Jones, on the other hand, was the happiest woman in the world...

 

Killian never wavered from his promise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it!! I had so much fun creating this little universe, Im sure I wont be able to stay away. I might accept some prompts, or let my muse decide to show you guys their first real date or maybe their engagement. We shall see! Let me know what you thought, loves!


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